


Northern Legend

by Wikia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Science Fiction, Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wikia/pseuds/Wikia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Built on the ruins of thousands of years of progress, and five wars that blasted them back to the stone age, humanity has gone through the motions of its earliest history despite technology being far more advanced than it really should have been. In this world, we join a single young man as he becomes the most feared legend of the Northern Continent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Men and Murder

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done anything in the western genre in my works before and wanted to do a new spin on the "Space Western" that people have been trying for years now. Hopefully, this is a cool twist for those who enjoy the genre will have fun reading.

I stand in the center of the street, or at least what passes as a street. The roads of old have long since deteriorated out here far from any CorpTown. In front of me, the bastard that shot my brother and cost him his arm and his job as the town engineer back home. I am going to kill this man for what he’s done, I will collect the bounty on his head, and then I’ll ride back with enough cash to keep us steady for months.

Then it’s back to the forge safe and sound.

“Ya sure you wanna try dis, boy?” my opponent spat, his drawl giving away his Southern Continent heritage, or at least upbringing.

“That’s a stupid last thing to say before you die.” I replied. Before he could get half his rebuttal out though, I drew my pistol and fired. Straight and true, the plasma projectile impacted his sternum, shortly before two more shots caught him in the neck and the gut. His clothing and skin burned almost instantly and all I heard before he hit the ground was a rather pathetic gurgling sound.

“Not exactly fair…” someone commented, probably one of the older gentlemen who was around back when honor between rogues was still an actual practice instead of contrived bullshit.

“Neither is what he did to my kin.”  
_____________________

The year is forgotten, countries are gone, the world is changed and the modern world left in the wake of the interplanetary conflicts has long since been dead. No one soars amongst the stars as humanity once did, even basic high atmospheric flight has been lost, but much of the technology left by their ancestors has been left behind.

And with it, history has repeated itself once more.

Built on the ruins of thousands of years of progress, humanity has gone through the motions of its earliest history despite technology being far more advanced than it really should have been. Plasma weaponry and hovertech are commonplace; bionics and medical technology can keep those with the means to afford them alive for more than a century. Most importantly however communications are still near instantaneous across the planet, controlled and maintained by one of the many companies that survived the devastation that wiped every government off the globe.

Comm-Corp. A simple yet powerful name in the world and the biggest surviving corporation to run a CorpTown, or in their case, a CorpCity. Governments have long since been dead, the only law in the world is whatever rules each town or city you happen to be in enforce, though there are a few global standards that most adhere to. No messing with Comm-Corp equipment, no being violent near or in hospitals, and if you find someone wandering the wastes alone and near-death, you help them with supplies, a lift, or a merciful plasma bullet to the back of the head.

That isn’t to say the world is all lawless crooks, most of them are decent folk if you don’t count the bastards, bandits, and metal-mutants; people who willingly replaced perfectly fine body parts with cybernetic and bionic ‘upgrades’ that usually worked as shock troops for bandit gangs or ran them.

It’s surprising what five wars that nearly wipe out all knowledge of the past will do to a species; in this case, humanity as it simply survives alone in the galaxy. As such each settlement, regardless in size, tries not to start up a big fuss, and most matters between CorpTowns are settled in a board room instead of a battlefield. That’s not to say the world is violence-free, humans are still humans and an eye for an eye almost never stops at just the eye.

 

Our story on the other hand, focuses on a single young man of the age of 17. By all accounts, he’s been a ‘legal’ adult for nearly 3 years, and as such has plenty of responsibility to his family and his homestead. His name is one of little renown and little fame… that name is Eli Wilson, and this is the story of how he became the most feared legend of the Northern Continent.  
_____________________

Eli, having just committed his second killing, continued down the main street of a small town named Fort Kensing that had been established on the ruins of an ancient fortress discovered by the entrepreneur Henry Kensing nearly five decades ago. Ever since the town had gone through a few population spikes and declines, with the latest decline still lasting despite starting nearly three years prior.

He was an average looking young man with a tanned complexion, and various burn and scuff marks all along his hands and arms from working in the forge where he made his living. His black hair was short, barely enough to be considered hair he was missing his left eyebrow that had been permanently singed off.

Eli didn’t pay much thought to the considerably smaller population though, Kensing was still a vital stop on shipping and snail mail lines between three CorpTowns and was destined to never fail as long as the bullets, booze, and fuel cells continued to flow through the hover-rail lines and down its main street.

It was also one of his regular stops when bringing in the goods he and his brother made at their blacksmith back in their hometown of Steam-Forge; a mining town that was projected to have plenty of life left in it for decades.

Grimly and without saying anything, the young man dragged the body of a lesser-known criminal and murderer towards the police station. Lucky for the town cleaning men, plasma bullets cauterized wounds and victims of shootouts never left stains all over. It only took him a few minutes before he tossed the body onto the front porch of the building with the iconic Hexagon with a fist in the center that represented most police forces throughout the Northern and Southern Continents painted on the front door.

“Mind explaining why you just dumped a body on my front door, kid?” a gravely male voice called out. Eli turned to see a middle-aged man standing with his arm resting down by his side and hand on his holster. The police symbol on his chest was heavily embellished with gold trim leaving no doubt in Eli’s mind that this was the Praetor, or chief law enforcement officer, of Fort Kensing.

“He shot my brother and cost him his ability to work, I demanded compensation and he disagreed.” Eli replied, tensing up a little as the Praetor walked towards him, looking over the young man before raising an eyebrow. Quietly, Eli moved out of the way, kicking himself mentally for nearly forgetting his manners in the presence of not only an elder, but a law enforcer.

“Name?”

“Eli Wilson, sir.”

“I meant the corpse.”

“Daniel Goodman.”

“Funny…” the Praetor murmured before keying the communications device on his collar. “I don’t care who but someone come up to the main office, we got a justified manslaughter and a corpse that needs a proper ID and bounty check.”

Eli kept quiet as the man next to him continued to look the body over, only occasionally tensing up when he looked back at the out-of-date pistol in its equally old holster. It had been his inheritance from when his parents had died. His mother of a terminal illness that slowly shut down her immune system and their father had drunk himself into the gutter out of grief before taking his own life.

“Come on inside, we’ll talk about paperwork.” The Praetor said, motioning for Eli to follow him once the front door slid open. Inside was what you’d expect of a police station; cubicles for logistics officers and the dispatch, a small break room with an over-sized vidscreen playing a children’s film of all things, and a large holding cell capable of holding up to 20 people taking up a fair portion of the inside, but only accessible via the energy shielded door.

As they walked into the main office of the one-armed Praetor, Eli noted that the name on the door was Reeger. All along the walls were mementos of the elder gentleman’s past, including a green CommCorp Defense Forces uniform and various trinkets that Eli assumed he had taken from executed criminals. Reeger sat down in his plush chair, motioning for the young blacksmith to take a seat on the barely padded stool next to him.

“So, he cost your brother his ability to work?”

“Yes sir. He tried to kill my brother but only managed to hit his shoulder and arm, his right arm had to be amputated and we’re still saving up for a replacement… I was hop-“

“And you’re the same blacksmith merchant that comes by every couple of weeks, right? I recognize your face a little.”

“Ye-“

“I recognized the name and the face of the man you killed as well.” Reeger interjected again as the small vidscreen on his desk sprang to life. Eli shifted a little as the older man’s face darkened with each passing second. After a few minutes of deepening his scowl, the Praetor turned his vidscreen so that Eli could see it.

Goodman’s dossier was on full screen, including a string of murders and killings that were auto-scrolling in view. Next to the scrolling list of death were three separate lists showing plenty of arson, robbery, and even a few public intoxication convictions. However, next to his name was a red star with crossed rifles in the center of it. The more Eli looked at the symbol, the more unsettled he became before Reeger let out a sigh.

“Daniel Goodman is responsible for nearly 83 deaths and a string of other crimes… however, he has amnesty in Fort Kensing, every CorpTown run by Militech, and any settlement who has a law enforcement station that accepts Militech funding.” Reeger stated, “He’s what we call a ‘Paid Bastard’, and if he tried to kill your brother and wasn’t drunk at the time, then Militech wants your kin dead. There’s no bounty on Goodman but since he really was a pain that we only tolerated due to Militech funding, I won’t arrest you like I’m supposed to.”

“Th… thank you si-“

“Get out and get home, kid. Check on your brother and avoid any Militech convoys on the way.”

Eli gave a respectful nod as he rushed out the station, frantically looking for where he had grav-locked his bike before zeroing in on it. He leaped on and disengaged the locks and parking stabilizers before pissing off quite a few nearby pedestrians as he gunned his bike, sending up a very large cloud of dust.

Once his bike hit the 50kph mark, the basic shielding came online, protecting him from anything kicked up by the hover-drive in his ‘bike’ or already in the air like insects and the like. His bike however, was about as old as his pistol and the shielding failed with slight regularity making his trademark goggles and bandana more than just a fashion statement when joyriding.

Five minutes into the ride back home, he felt dust start to pelt the metal-weave of his bandana and the HUD in his goggles showing the various engine readouts began to get slightly cloudy. Had he been using public transit, he would have admired the scenery around him. His path home took him over an ancient roadway and because of it the trees never grew in the way of vehicle traffic. All around on the side of the road though were century-old evergreens that had started growing right at the end of the Last Country War that dissolved what remained of the last country to survive The Desolation four hundred years prior, the Confederation of Liberated States.

While many viewed them as a sign that the planet would once again flourish even in areas where something that his father had once mentioned as ‘radiation’ still lingered; he only viewed them as a constant reminder of those nutjobs that used to be encamped out near Admo and had raided Steam-Forge back when his parents were still alive.

 _“At least they moved on towards New Talcim.”_ Eli thought, letting his mind wander as it usually did during these drives between Fort Kensing and his home town. _“Damnit focus Eli, focus… Will might be in serious trouble.”_

The young blacksmith punched in the throttle, accelerating again to the point of having to weave around other bikes, buses, and trucks traveling the roadway before taking a sharp turn north onto a slightly less worn and much more grassy path that. On the horizon he could see the iconic thin trials of smoke that marked Steam-Forge on the map, though there were more than usual.

“Must have hit that big deposit of tornium that the foreman mentioned they were closing in on…” he murmured to himself, trying not to let his mind drift into a worst-case scenario. Despite how much of a pessimist, though he preferred the term realist, he was, when it came to his brother he did his best to keep positive.

After nearly two more hours of riding and watching as the smoke trails continued to grow in size, Eli finally reached the outskirts of Steam-Forge. Not bothering with regular protocol and going full throttle all the way up to the front door of his home and store, or at least what was left of it. The door was across the street in a smoking heap and the windows were all blown out. As Eli made his way inside he noticed the forge was warped and molten metal had obviously been inside of it during what must have been an explosion if the random splatters of cooled tornium on the walls and ceilings were any indication.

In the middle of the desolation however was a tarp covering a body and the town’s head physician kneeling over him. Doctor Nijul was the only man in town from the Mountain Continent to the west of the Northern Continent; he was balding, slightly pale in complexion, and sported the trademark cat-eye pupils that people from his continent had. Despite his fierce appearance, he was one of the kindest men in town and took to his job with a passion that Eli admired to no end.

“Cal…?” Eli asked, causing the doctor to jolt slightly and look up. Cal Nijul stood up silently, pulling off his gloves as he walked over and placed a hand on Eli’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry E… the forge had a catastrophic meltdown while your brother was trying to work it, caused the whole damn thing to blow up and started a fire. He was right beside it when it happened.” Nijul said, glancing back over at the body for a moment, “I wasn’t able to get in until the fire was put out.”

“Did…. Did he suffer…?” Eli choked out, barely keeping his composure and wishing he had left his riding gear on.

“Instant death, no pain… I’ll leave you some time… the coroners will be here in a few minutes.”

Eli could only give a small and respectful nod as the doctor continued on his way out. Once he was alone, he went back to looking over what was left of his storefront. The ceiling was as warped as the forge, ripples in the heat-resistant plating he had bought all those years ago showed how the blast dissipated as well as where the fires had taken the longest to extinguish. All along the walls the wares they had spent hours and in some cases days creating were nothing more than ash marks on metal and piles of molten alloys on the ground.

He avoided looking at the body of his brother; whatever was left of him was not something he wanted as his last memory of his immediate family. However, Eli did give small and silent thanks to the gods; if it hadn’t been for the metal construction materials that Eli and his brother had spent their inheritance on, the entire building would’ve been nothing more than a burning pile of cinders and ash. Instead, it was a burnt out husk of what was a normal and conflict-free life, or at least as normal life could get out in a mining town. The house and store, despite the catastrophe that it was, was salvageable for someone else to use until he could find a job at another forge around Steam-Forge.

It wasn’t until Eli looked over at the ventilation that his expression changed from grieving acceptance to skeptical anger. He walked over, looking at the pipes that fed smoke, deadly fumes, and excess heat to the unit that heated their home on the second floor during the night and winters. Along three separate bends in what was left of the shaft, he saw evidence of fresh welds that hadn’t been there when he left to hunt down Dan Goodman.

“And it wasn’t out welder…” he thought sourly, gingerly tracing the welding line before grabbing the wrench from the back of his belt and going to work opening up the vent. It took him less than a minute to pry it open and see fresh sheets of titaglium, plasma-resistant armor, blocking the shaft.

“Son of a **bitch!** ” Eli barked loud enough to make people in the bar across the street jump. Nijul ran back in upon hearing the curse only to find an pissed off 17-year-old man getting his riding goggles back on.

“What happened?” the doctor asked, trying to slow Eli down as he stormed towards his bike.

“Someone blocked the ventilation shaft.” Eli replied, gently yet firmly pushing the older man out of the way before he mounted his hoverbike, “Someone set this up to blow once plasma gas hit peak levels and then they blocked the damn flush valve! Someone murdered my brother and I’m going to find out why.”

“You know who did it?” Cal asked.

“No, but I know who paid’em to.”

“Eli you just finished a man hunt you can’t just go off on another one! You need to rest!”

“If it was me burnt to a goddamn crisp in there and Will had proof it wasn’t a damn accident, he’d be on the bike already halfway to New Cadmo by now!”

“New Cadmo… why woul.. no. No no no no no. You are not going to a Militech CorpCit-you are not going to the Militech CorpCity damnit!” Nijul ordered, attempting to pull Eli off his bike to no avail.

“I’ll be back eventually, don’t bother saving anything it’s all ashes now anyway.” Eli said with a surprisingly calm tone before he shot off down the street, kicking up dirt and dust as he did. He was angry, he wanted revenge, and he was going to make whoever had caused this pay for what they did.

All he had to do now was figure out how the hell he was going to do it.


	2. Close to the Heart

New Cadmo was a coastal city roughly a day’s travel from Steam-Forge, though that was only if you didn’t stop to rest or refuel. Eli, despite his wanting to get to the bottom of things as quickly as possible and quite honestly, being fueled quite a bit on revenge, realized about halfway through the journey that he wouldn’t be able to get anything done if he got himself killed by being reckless.

Or at least driving recklessly. He had fixed so many hover-bikes and made so many parts for broken down bikes that were damaged from driver stupidity that he had chosen simply to be smart when it came to getting to New Cadmo. For now, he was camped out on a mountain just east of New Cadmo; he was able to see the lights, even some of the big war machines that were patrolling the place that everyone referred to as tanks. Eli personally just called them “Oh shit”’s.

Across the way, he saw the tent city that New Cadmo had become infamous for. Nearly a hundred thousand people exiled to the mountains to live despite their places of work, both voluntary and involuntary, being within the city walls. Slaves and employed workmen alike were forced to live outside where they would slow down an enemy attack long enough for Militech Enforcer Battalions to muster and put artillery fire on the attacking force.

Needless to say, Militech’s CEO and Top Officers saw slaves and ‘common rabble’ as expendable for the sake of their ability to produce arms and armor. The shielding that protected the city was also on that list of things worth human lives to keep up in order to make sure that the men holding all the currency in this side of the continent were kept comfortable.

While detestable, Eli could see the necessity and the morbid brilliance behind the tactic; keep the infrastructure intact so that the surviving population has something to return to once the slave ships got back from the Mountain Continent.

“Eh… enough on those bastards…” Eli muttered to himself as he started a small fire. “Just gotta figure out how I’m gonna get this done…” he added as the fuel finally took to the kindling he had gathered and soon after spread to what little wood he was able to acquire. Quietly he laid down beside the flame, his pack being used as a pillow as he looked up into the darkening night sky.

Barely visible clouds passed on slowly overhead under the faint light of the crescent moons. One was made by man thousands of years ago, or so the legend went. Eli personally never believed it; both moons looked the same, minus the fact that one was only half the size of the other, and just as natural as the larger one the one time he was graced with the opportunity to look into a telescope meant for stargazing. Silently he pondered if humans could ever achieve a feat like creating a second moon, or even reaching the heavens. They could hover and even manage to get a few feet in the air when it involved anything that traveled by sea, but flight like the birds above was still seemingly out of their reach.

 _“When does human ingenuity stop and blind luck begin…”_ he thought with a small grin. It was a saying his grandfather had been fond of whenever a new technology was discovered or created. _“One day man will once again fly… but it won’t be because we were smart enough… it will be good ole’ fashioned luck.”_

Behind him, unbeknownst to Eli as he let his mind wander aimlessly from flight to espionage and everywhere in between, he had company. Two figured cloaked in dark blue crept up to the young man’s small encampment. Both of them looked him over, giving unseen smirks to each other as they drew their blades and continued closer to their target.

Eli was jolted from his trance when a dagger hit the metal plate he had on underneath his shirt. The plate on average would have been enough to stop the blade, but the fabric in his shirt was nowhere near the regular or ‘soft’ fabrics that those in major Corp-Towns could afford. The rough wool woven with cotton and sewn onto a leather backing in order to be flame resistant just in case of a smithing accident inadvertently was very effective at stopping slashes. In this case however, it was perfect for dampening a stab enough so that his ‘life-plate’ as many of his profession wore was able to keep the dagger from slipping between his ribs.

The young blacksmith rolled away from the assailant and grabbed the knife in his chest with animalistic ferocity. He pulled the pistol from his holster with his free hand, holding up the strange blade like a shield as he finally managed to pinpoint where his attackers were. While the blue was perfect for hiding in the night sky, against the white of the mountain’s snow it was the exact opposite of effective. 

“Who the hell are you and what do you want?!” he barked, cocking the hammer on his sidearm. In response, the assassins in front of him drew their own pistols and did the same before he could squeeze off the trigger.

“Bounty hunters, what does it look like?” the first one replied, obviously female and not very happy that her knife was in his possession at the moment.

“You know who I am?”

“William Wilson… or are you the brother that got too nosey?” the male of the duo said.

“The brother… Will is dead.” Eli growled in response. “There’s a bounty on me?”

“Not yet….” The woman told him, putting away her pistol. “Dear brother, I believe we’ve wasted our time with this one.”

“Agreed…” her brother sighed.

“Ooooh no, you’re not just gonna walk away after stabbing me in the goddamn chest. Who are you two, really?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” came a almost giggling response. That giggle and unseen grin quickly turned to a scowl as Eli examined the dagger he had managed to get from her.

“This metal is from Mountain Continent… grenalium… mostly used in throwing knives and emergency daggers , I can tell by the weight and the color…” Eli murmured before sticking the blade in his belt. “What brings a pair of Catblades to the Capitol Militech Corp-City?”

“We’re bounty hunters you den-Catblades?!”

“Slang for assassins from where you two are from… or at least I think you’re from Mountain Continent, you’re using gear from there.”

“I should shoot you just for the slander, Northy.”

“Nor-… real original.” Eli deadpanned. “How about we all just put our guns away and chat like civilized people… you guys might be the solution to a problem I’m trying to solve.”  
The assassins both looked at each other for a moment, raising an eyebrow in unison and looking back at Eli but not lowering their pistols.

“What’s in it for us?”

“Any loot you can find in the Militech Archives when I break in and sack the place.” Eli smirked. Both siblings broke out laughing for what seemed like an hour before lowering their weapons. With surprising grace they both holstered their pistols in unison before the sister of the pair walked over to Eli with her hand extended. Eli took the blade from his belt and put the hilt in her hand, barely getting his hand out of the way of the edge when she retracted her hand.

“And how do you plan on getting inside?”

“That’s where I was hoping you two would help... you’re assassins right? You can get blueprints of places for a job… I’m a blacksmith, a mechanic; I can get through obstacles without getting caught in ways you can’t.”

“It’s going to take more than that… we want payment. Cold hard cash.”

“I’m willing to bet a mountain of creds that they have vaults in that archive building. Who better to break them open than a guy who spends his life around metal?” Eli asked, glancing between them in an attempt to keep his eyes from lingering on the woman next to him. Despite not being able to see her face he couldn’t help but notice the extremely snug bodysuit that she was wearing and that her brother had on as well. The sister looked over to her brother for a moment as he stroked his chin in thought. When he finally looked back and nodded, she punched Eli in the arm, causing him to stagger and almost topple over.

“Alright, we’re in… but we’ll add to your tab for each part of the job we do.” She said as the young blacksmith regained his footing. He rubbed his shoulder for a moment before taking a seat by the fire and gesturing to it. The twins both nodded politely before sitting down on the ground as well.

“First part of your tab is food, I hope you have some to spare.” The brother remarked as they both took off their masks and unwrapped their heads. Eli grumbled something unintelligible as he grabbed three of his instapacks and started prepping them over the fire. As he did so, he glanced up to get a good look at his new allies of convenience.

The brother had the traditional cat-eyes of Mountain Continenters, pale blue in color and almost twitchy as he kept looking around just in case they weren’t alone. He sported a short Mohawk that was almost impossible to see due to how dark his hair was, it might have been jet-black but Eli couldn’t tell in the dark. His face was skinny and angular, almost as if he had been born with a dagger for a head, and his lips were fittingly thin as a blade.

The sister on the other hand was another story; her hair was shoulder length and by the looks of her roots, was naturally black despite the reddish hue in it that was no doubt dye. Her face was nearly as thin as her brothers, almost elven in appearance but not overly so. The most outstanding feature of her though was the fact that her eyes didn’t match. The right one was a cat eye, green in color and not nearly as twitchy as her brother’s, but the other was obviously a prosthetic that glowed green like her real eye. The machinery that kept it working jutted slightly out the socket with a small wire running across her temple and into her skin.

“You two have names?” Eli asked as he kept getting the food ready.

“I’m John…. And this is Jane.”

“Very funny.”

“We’re serious… that our aliases for now. Maybe if we want to stick by you for a second job we’ll let you know our real names.” Jane told him as she messed with her hair a little.

“Yet you both know my name and I’m even cooking you a meal.”

“We didn’t kill you, consider it all even for now.” John quipped with a feral smirk. Eli noted silently that his canines were slightly more pronounced than usual. He looked over and noticed that Jane’s were as well when she chuckled at her brother’s banter.

“Twins?”

“You’re pretty thick headed to have made it this far alive, Eli.” Jane retorted with a snort.

“Well I did hit my head in the forge plenty of times.” He snipped right back with a smirk of his own. Both twins chuckled at that, their body language barely giving away that they were relaxing, if only a little.

Before long, the food was ready, if it could be called that. Instapacks were traveling rations to keep you alive in the off chance that you ended up too far from a town or city to find food or shelter for the night. They were metal cases filled with nutrient-rich food paste that was much like a very thick soup and oatmeal mix. All three dug into their meals, gorging while keeping an eye on each other. The twins kept taking turns looking up from their food in order to watch Eli while Eli in turn looked up after every other bite.

“You going to trust us not to stick a blade in you?” Jane asked between bites.

“Are you going to tell me your real names?” he inquired in turn, getting a small smirk from Jane before she scarfed down another spoonful.

“Still no…” John told him, getting a slight grunt from Eli as he went back to his food. It took them a few minutes but they managed to clear the tins and feed them into the fire without much more conversation. It wasn’t until the twins started unpacking their packs that Eli got up the gumption to finally ask the main question that was on his mind.

“Hey Jane… you a metal-mutant…?”

“Excuse me?” she growled back.

“Metal-mutants… it’s what we Northies call people who intentionally replace their parts with bionics. What about you?” Eli asked again, his hand resting on his holster as Jane continued to glare at him. Her human eye narrowed as she continued to scowl before she went back to unpacking.

“I’m not one of those inhuman freaks if that’s what you’re asking, kid-“

“I’m not a kid, ma’am.” Eli scoffed.

“What are you, 14? 15? The stuff they have on record doesn’t say.”

“17… probably older than you.”

“By a year, and barely that… anyway… I’m not a bandit or one of those bionic freaks that hunts us regulars for sport in the wastes; my eye was an… accident a few months ago.” She replied, the scowl disappearing as far as Eli could tell in the low light once she got back to pulling out her bedroll. They seemed to have packed light, meaning there was no way for them to have been getting around on foot.

 _“They must have a bike or two near…”_ Eli thought as he propped his own pack up like a pillow again. Without another word he looked back up at the night sky, noting how quietly the twins worked on their sleeping gear. They must have been trained fairly early in their lives to be that quiet, or they had sprung the creds for a couple of decibel dampeners and hadn’t turned them off yet.

“See y’all when the sun’s up.” He finally said, looking over at the twins for a moment and smirking. Jane was already out like a light and John was sitting up, keeping watch like a half-crazed sentry. Not that Eli minded, as long as the promise of creds kept them loyal, he wouldn’t mind letting one of them keep an eye out for any additional bounty hunters that might be roaming around.

“Yeah… whatever.” John muttered, glaring at Eli almost casually before going back to being his twitchy-eyed self.

Several hours and one harsh dream involving William later, Eli woke up to find John asleep and Jane sitting with her back to both men. Despite telling himself that he was a gentleman, he couldn't help but stare while her cloak was off and she was still clad only in that body-suit she had stabbed him in the night before. She seemed to sense that he was awake before long and turned to face him, making him jump slightly as he quickly looked away and pretended to go through a morning stretch.

“You snore when you sleep on your back.” She deadpanned, “Try to stick to your sides or stomach if you want to keep quiet in the field.”

“I don’t plan on camping out too often, ma’am.” He retorted, standing up and legitimately stretching before working his way out of view to douse himself in sterilizer so that when they went into town he wouldn't appear more out of place than he already would have. 

Quietly and quickly as to not leave his gear unattended too long, he let the spray do its work on his skin as well as his clothes that he had set aside. After putting everything he had back on, he walked back up to the camp, noticing a faint blush on Jane’s face and that John was awake and meditating.

“Should I let him be while I pack up?” Eli asked.

“Give him a few minutes and then we’ll be ready to travel… and walk farther the next time you decide to clean yourself up.” She replied without looking at him, crossing her arms with a frustrated grumble. Eli was tempted to tease her before looking back in the general area where he had just conducted his daily hygiene. Much to his chagrin, he noticed that the little nook that he had chosen and thought was hidden was in fact in perfect view of her lookout position.

“…. I’ll just pack up and get ready to head into the city…” he muttered, packing up what little he had brought and getting his bike ready for the final push into town. By the time he finished getting ready, John was back up and wrapping himself in his cloak with Jane following her brothers lead.

“You two got bikes nearby or have you managed to track me on foot?”

“We have a bike nearby and you’ll be leading the way, but first thing’s first.” John replied as Jane tossed her cloak and a rebreather mask at the young blacksmith, “Militech has a bounty on you as of this morning after word spread you killed that guy back at Fort Kensing so I suggest you wear that on your way inside. They’re not checking IDs strictly and posters aren’t on city entrances, keep both of those on when you’re not wearing your riding gear unless you want to get shot in the middle of New Cadmo.”

“Duly noted…” Eli said to the assassin with a nod, wrapping himself up and putting the mask on before getting his riding goggles on. To his surprise, the goggles and rebreather fit together quite nicely, making a comfortable seal much like his riding bandana. Once he had his disguise donned, he mounted his bike and looked over at the twins who had brought up their own bike. An older model but one that Eli recognized as a sturdy and fast machine for its age despite all of the modifications.

“Shall we, blacksmith?” Jane asked with an unseen grin.

“Yeah…” he quipped, looking back over before revving up the engine, **“Let’s ride!”**


End file.
